


Floating to Nowhere

by Little_oblivion



Series: Think of Anything [2]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Sex Worker AU, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, different POV, in our hearts and also in this series, sex worker wednesday lives on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_oblivion/pseuds/Little_oblivion
Summary: Every story has another point of view(A sampling of chapters from Think of Anything- but from Christen's POV)
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Series: Think of Anything [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631725
Comments: 47
Kudos: 239





	1. Nice to Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> SEX WORKER WEDNESDAY LIVES ON
> 
> This is Cp's POV of Chapter 2: Face to Face

When she woke up, something akin to anxiety was already churning low in her stomach, but at first she couldn't remember why. She stretched her arms above her head, squinting into the early morning sun, and then it hit her.

Today was the day she'd meet Tobin Heath in person.

And just like that, the anxiety intensified.

A million questions swirled through her head, all of them ones she had been kicking around for weeks. _Could she trust this woman? Was this piece a good idea? When weighed against sacrificing what little privacy she had, was doing this project a good idea?_ She let out a slow breath. Part of her still wasn't sure.

She pulled herself out of bed and went downstairs, greeting Khaleesi and Morena and letting them outside to do their business. She started a pot of coffee and filled the dog's bowl with food and water, then sat down at her kitchen table, yawning and scratching absently at her ankle while she waited on her coffee.

Once she had let the dogs in and filled her mug, she made her way back upstairs and sat at her desk, turning on her computer. She answered a few emails, ironing out some scheduling details, but then found herself once again with nothing to do other than obsess about today's meeting. She opened a new tab and pulled up Tobin's website.

She's left breathless, as always, by the first picture that appears. It's of an elderly gay couple, their hair nearly white, sitting next to each other on a polished wooden bench. One is wiping at his eyes, the other looking off to the side, but their hands are clasped as if the other man is the only thing holding them to earth. She knows the story, knows that they were one of the first gay couples married in New Jersey. She had already poured through that collection, through all of Tobin's photography collections, if she was being honest. But the perfection of this one quiet moment, captured just before they were called in to have their marriage ceremony performed, overwhelmed by the weight of having to wait fifty years for their love to be recognized...

It was powerful.

She began to flip through the different collections of pictures, then began to click on the links to different articles Tobin had written. It's not as if she hadn't seen them before; at this point, Christen wouldn't be surprised if she had them partially memorized. But there was something calming about looking at her past work, seeing how talented she was.

She ended up on Tobin's bio.

_Tobin Heath is an American photojournalist based out of New Jersey. She received her degree in Journalism from the University of North Carolina. After graduation, Heath freelanced as a photographer, eventually writing her first newspaper piece, "Left Behind" for the The Daily Record, a harrowing look at the lives of blue collar workers living with harrowing health problems as the result of their work environments. For this piece she also received the Tellerman Prize for Young and Upcoming Journalists. Since then, Heath has produced work for The Boston Globe, The New Yorker, and many more. She won the 2019 Sister Rosetta Thorpe Award for LGBTQ Activism for "Stonewalled: 50 Years Later," an exploration of the rise of gay rights._

She took another deep breath. This was someone who knew what she was doing. Someone who was obviously sensitive, considerate, and most importantly, good at covering sensitive subjects in a way that brought light without exploiting the subject. This was not the first time a reporter had wanted to write a piece on her, but she had always immediately turned them down. She could tell that they didn't actually care about the plights of being a sex worker. They wanted something hot and controversial, something to shock their readers and land them awards. And maybe she was crazy, maybe Tobin was more of the same, but that's just not the vibe she had gotten from her. She scrolled to the bottom of the page and let her eyes linger over the one photo of Tobin on the entire website, biting her lip slightly at her high cheekbones, her soft smile, the intensity of her eyes...

_Settle down, Christen._

She let her fingernails tap at her desk, momentarily regretting ever agreeing to do this. But sometimes you had to throw yourself head first into discomfort in order to make change, so that's what she would do.

And after all, she was a porn star. Thousands of people watched videos of her having sex everyday, how was this any different?

_It's completely different and you know it._

She sighed, rubbing at her forehead. By letting someone into her life, photographing not just the physically vulnerable moments but also the emotional ones, she was giving up a lot. She would give up the shiny, flawless mask she wore as a sex worker: someone who was beautiful and confident, who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it. Instead, people might see the corners of herself that had always been hidden, the doubts, the insecurities, the heartbreak.

Could she handle that?

Her phone buzzed with a text message from Megan.

**'Good morning Pressi! Any chance you wanna come to a yoga class this morning? Sue's hungover af and we already booked the slots'**

She grinned, picking up her phone and firing off a response.

**'Sounds great! Text me the address and I'll be there.'**

She stood up from the desk and headed downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. Maybe yoga was the exact thing she needed to settle her nerves about today.

X

She hovered just inside the door of the coffee shop, glancing around. She finally spied her at one of the longer tables to the side, laptop open and fingertips flying along the keys. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. It was time to do this. Whatever happened, happened.

"Tobin?" The other woman jerked her head up, clearly having been lost in her work. She looked at Christen for a moment, her hazel eyes darting around as if worried she would miss a single detail.

"Christen?"

"That's me."

Tobin stood up and offered her a hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you!"

"Likewise." She glanced down at the table, noticing the cup resting on the table top. "You already got something to drink?"

Tobin glanced down then back up with a slightly apologetic grin. "I did. Sorry, I would have waited for you but I ended up here super early. I can definitely go for another, though. Can I get you a coffee?"

Christen smiled, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Uh... sure. I'll take a latte with oat milk."

"Sweet. Anything to eat? Are you hungry?"

She shook her head, dropping her bag into one of the empty chairs and taking off her coat. "I'm good, thanks. I ate before yoga."

"Okay." Tobin made her way back to the counter and Christen took a seat. She pulled her phone out to find a message from Megan.

**'Relax! Everything's going to be fine! Just try not to soak your panties while looking into her dreamy face'**

She quickly switched off her phone and stashed it in her coat pocket, cursing herself for accidentally mentioning to Megan that Tobin was what some people might consider attractive.

"Here we go." She gratefully accepted the coffee from Tobin, taking a sip as the other woman got settled, stowing her laptop in her bag and pulling out a yellow legal pad and a pen.

"So official," Christen joked, trying to quell the nerves that were popping back up. "I feel like I'm giving a police statement."

Tobin chuckled under her breath. "I don't think I'd make much of a detective."

"That's not true. You're quite the investigator." She shot Christen a quizzical look, and Christen felt the need to keep talking. "You're not the only one who did research leading up to this. I don't let just anyone follow me around for months on end." Christen wondered if she had revealed too much, wondered if Tobin thought she was a weirdo. "I found quite a bit of your work. I especially loved your mini series on the Stonewall inn anniversary. It was really poignant."

Tobin scratched at the back of her neck, her cheeks flushing slightly at the praise, and Christen felt a slight surge of confidence. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Shall we get started?"

Tobin switched into business mode, asking Christen questions that she answered easily, slowly starting to feel more at ease thanks to her super chill, laid-back vibe.

"Are you from California originally?"

Christen nodded. "Mmhm. Born in LA, raised in the suburbs. Went to college there, too."

"Oh, I didn't realize you went to college," Tobin said absently.

Christen exhaled slightly, her body tensing at the statement. This was one stereotype that she faced time and time again, that sex workers were uneducated, that they had no idea about anything they were talking about. "Why, because all sex workers are idiots?" she replied, hoping that frustration wasn't coloring her voice.

Tobin dropped her pen against the table. "No! That's not... I just didn't see anything on your website or in any of your other interviews."

She looked so honestly alarmed that she might have accidentally offended Christen that she had no choice but to smile, letting her know that she wasn't upset. "I'm teasing. Kind of. Yeah, I went to Stanford."

She gave a low whistle. "Stanford? Damn, okay," she teased. "So what did you major in?"

"I did two years as a Public Policy major, with plans to go to law school after I graduated. But then my junior year I switched to Psychology with a minor in Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, which my parents were... thrilled about." She rolled her eyes, remembering all to well the looks of poorly concealed horror they'd sported when she told them. "And then I dropped out, which was really the icing on the cake."

"Wow... what made you start out as pre-law?"

"My dad is a lawyer," she answered simply. "That's it. I'm smart and opinionated and not afraid to argue, so it seemed like a good enough fit."

"But it wasn't?"

"Nope. I just... I was tired of hearing rich, privileged white dudes drone on about... I don't know. How enlightened the founding fathers were. I was like, they had _literal slaves_ , maybe we should take everything they say with a grain of salt, y'know?"

Tobin snorted. "I can only imagine. So you made the switch..."

She pushed her hair back from her face. "And I liked it! It was never that I didn't like school. I loved it. I was good at it. But... after awhile it felt like I was drowning. Not necessarily under the intense course load like my peers, but under the expectations."

"Expectations?" Tobin prodded.

"Of my parents, my professors, society as a whole. It was like I had spent my whole life living as someone that I wasn't, and once I started reading all of these works about the psyche and the human condition, I needed something more. Something else." She took a sip of coffee. "I guess you could say that's how all of this began. I ended up at a strip club in LA for a project, talking to the girls, assuming that they would be these... broken, downtrodden victims, and instead they were a tribe of badass women who were working of their own volition, taking ownership of their bodies, and making fucking bank while they were at it." She shrugged. "I ended up coming back to watch a few more times, and suddenly I had a job there."

"And you were..."

"I had just turned twenty one."

"Did you like stripping?"

She tilted her head slightly, really mulling the question over. "Y'know, I did." It was the truth. Sure, the first time she had gotten on stage, she had been absolutely terrified. But even during that awkward, cringe worthy dance, she hadn't been immune to the feelings of power starting to course through her bloodstream. Men were looking at her, watching her, wanting her, but it was on her own terms. People had been staring at her for her entire life; why should she feel bad about taking ownership of that? "I like dancing, I actually grew up dancing, not the same way, but it was nice to be active and moving my body again. And the friendships I developed with the other girls were unworldly. To this day, my best friends are the ones I've made at work." She couldn't help but smile, thinking about Alex and the other girls, thinking about how nothing really cemented someone as your ride or die like dancing together in a club.

They continued chatting, touching on Christen becoming an escort and then an adult film actress. 

Tobin made a note on the legal pad. "What's... Well." She cut off suddenly, worrying her lip as she seemed to toss something back and forth in her mind.

Christen suddenly felt a little self conscious again. "What?"

"Well I was going to ask what kind of porn is your favorite to do, but I feel like that might be crossing a line of some sort."

Christen couldn't help but laugh, touched that Tobin was so concerned about preserving boundaries. "Trust me, you're nowhere even close to the line. I'm lucky to work with some incredibly badass companies here in Portland, ones that tend to produce work that's both ethical and feminist."

Tobin flipped to a new page. "Uh, explain those terms? I don't know that I hear many people talking about feminist porn."

"I know, it sounds like a complete contradiction. But put super simply, feminist porn emphasizes equal treatment and equal pay of it's performers. Ethical porn is about the perfomer's rights and well being. Basically, vids where everyone consents, gets off, has a great time, and I'm not taking a cum shot to the face."

Tobin glanced up at her, her eyes wide with a strange kind of innocence that Christen wasn't expecting, and she couldn't stop herself from laughing at the other woman. Suddenly a flurry of emotion crossed Tobin's face.

"Hold right there." She fished her camera out and Christen did her best to stay still as she did so. After several moments, she lowered the camera and gave Christen a small smile. "Wow."

"Hm?"

"Nothing! It's just... I've spent a lot of time looking at pictures and watching videos of you over the past couple of weeks. I guess I just thought I would be better equipped to handle how shockingly beautiful you are."

A small thrill went through Christen's body but she ignored it. "I bet you say that to all of the people you write stories on." 

"Mm not so much." Tobin fiddled with the camera in her lap for a moment. "The last piece I completed was about teenage girls in the New York State justice system. And there... wasn't a lot of beauty in what I saw and heard."

"I can imagine," Christen murmured, thinking about the horrible stories she had heard about the justice system.

"So many of them are in there for doing... god, just dumb shit. Stupid shit they shouldn't have been doing, yeah, but now their lives have been irrevocably changed by being incarcerated. So much of it is drug related, but New York is right on the cusp of legalizing marajuana, and what does that mean for them? They lost years of their lives, but now the hipsters in Brooklyn get to sell it out of their coffee shops." Tobin's eyes had come alive with a fire Christen hadn't seen before.

"It's grossly unfair."

"That's how I kind of happened upon this project. I met a girl in there and... again, a dumb kid. She was sixteen and hopelessly in love with an older boyfriend. He ended up turning her out and she got busted for solicitation. She unknowingly was in a school zone, and when you add that to some previous trouble and resisting arrest, she landed a year and a half sentence in Albion Correctional Facility."

Christen shook her head."I hear you. Prostitution is a Class A misdemeanor in Oregon, meaning whether you're the escort or the client you can be subject to 364 days in jail, $6200 in fines, or 160 hours of community service. And it's just... why can I spend nearly a year in jail for helping someone with a disability or impairment fulfill a perfectly healthy need in their life, meanwhile these multi millionaires who are abusing their employees get away with a slap to the wrist? How is that fair?" She had the possible punishments memorized, a side effect of living every day a little afraid that she might be arrested for an act that wasn't hurting anyone.

"Exactly."

She sighed. "So much of the pushback about sex work is all about the yuck factor. People have been taught to be ashamed and afraid of sexuality, so when people try to be up front about it, they hate it. And they kick and scream and threaten until we're forced to go back under ground. But sex workers are just human. We're just trying to pay rent and eat good food and snuggle our dogs. We're not dirty. We're just human."

She took another sip of her coffee then glanced up at Tobin, who was giving her another soft smile. "Just human..." she repeated softly.


	2. Home is Wherever I'm with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEX WORKER WEDNESDAY BABYYYYYY  
> THIS IS CP's POV of Chapter 7: Take Me Home

Christen took a deep breath as she made her way up the sidewalk. Was she being super pushy and overbearing and nosy and a hundred other things? Yes. But there was something about the way Tobin avoided every mention of her Airbnb that made her curiosity unbearable.

She shifted the bag of groceries in her arms to one side and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she knocked again, a little bit louder. Finally the door swung open, revealing a guy about her height with a buzz cut. His look of annoyance quickly morphed into a grin, his eyes giving her a quick up and down.

"Well you're the prettiest delivery girl I've ever seen."

She gave him a smile. "Actually, I was wondering if Tobin was here." She hadn't considered until this exact moment that Tobin might not be here, and didn't exactly have a back up plan.

"I think she's holed up in her bedroom." He gave her another wolfish grin. "Do you wanna come in?"

This guy was giving her major creeps, there was no way she was going inside if Tobin wasn't home. "No, if you could just tell her that I'm here, thanks." He shut the door and she shifted from one foot to the other, waiting. After several moments the door opened again, revealing a sweater clad Tobin who stood resolutely in the doorway, not letting Christen peek past her.

"Hi!" Christen grinned.

“Hey! Uh, did we make plans and I forgot? I could have met you somewhere, you didn’t have to-”

Christen pushed past her into the house. “No, we didn’t have plans. But you still hadn’t invited me over so I thought I’d take the liberty of doing it myself. This is the AirBnb?” She carefully observed the beat up couch, the empty food containers scattered around it on the floor, the smell of carpet that had seen much better days. She also didn't miss that instead of a dining room table, several weight machines had been set up in the room to her left.

Tobin awkwardly lead her to the kitchen. “Uh, yeah. You, you didn’t need to…” She stopped short, turning to Christen as she scratched at the back of her neck. Christen barely stopped herself from physically recoiling. The kitchen was absolutely filthy. There was trash everywhere, not to mention plates and pans covered with remnants of food on most of the surfaces including the stove. The room itself smelled awful, no doubt from the overflowing trash can against the wall

“Oh. Wow, this is… Okay.”

“Yeah…” Embarrassment was clear on Tobin's face. “Uh, if you want to sit that on the counter for now, we can go in my room.”

“Okay.” Christen followed her down the hall, into a small room with a mattress on the ground. It was noticeably cleaner, with the blanket spread neatly across the bed.

“This… is it.” Tobin folded her arms. “I’m sorry that there’s no place for you to sit.”

Christen swallowed hard. “This is… wow. This is where you’ve been staying?”

Tobin nodded. “Yeah. And I mean, it’s not so bad. Somewhere to sleep. A roof over my head.”

“I see…” Christen glanced around the room again. “Is this… how you live in Jersey?” She was so, so desperately uncomfortable, but she didn't want to say something and accidentally offend Tobin.

“No!” Tobin gave a short laugh. “Not at all. But… I mean, my editors have been… well, hesitant about this project. So I wasn’t given an advance. Which normally isn’t an issue, because I’m either at my own apartment or staying with friends and family. But I didn’t really know anyone here, so I had to use my savings to rent somewhere. This place was pretty much the cheapest of the cheap. And… I mean, I got what I paid for.”

Christen nodded, appreciating for the first time the things that Tobin had given up to do this project about her. “Got it.” She turned to Tobin, forcing a smile to her face. “Well, let’s get started on lunch.” She turned on her heel, leaving no room for argument, and headed back into the kitchen.

Christen tried to keep her smile firmly in place as they went about preparing the grain bowls. If Tobin could put up with this, then so could she.

“Oh, I need a can opener for the beans,” Christen mused. She should have brought one, but she had honestly never considered that Tobin's place could be like this.

“Uh… I don’t know that we have one, but I’ll check.” Tobin stretched up on to her toes to check the cabinet, and Christen let herself take a moment to admire the cut of Tobin's calves. She only looked away when suddenly a live cockroach dropped from the cabinet and landed on the counter. Both she and Tobin let out short, sharp squeals, both squirming away from where it landed and began to skitter away.

“That’s it. No way.” Christen pressed a hand to her mouth, swallowing back the rising bile.

“I’m so sorry,” Tobin quickly began, but Christen cut her off. She couldn't stand by any longer.

“Nope. You can’t stay here. C’mon, we’re packing up your things.” She turned and walked swiftly down the hall, throwing open the door to Tobin's room and glancing around distractedly.

“Christen, I already paid for two months, I won’t be able to get any money back and I can’t afford-”

She held up a hand. “You can stay with me." The words left her mouth before she could think them through, but right away she knew that it was the only thing to do and forged ahead. "I have two guest rooms, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you stay in this place. Pack your things.”

Tobin looked at her with wide eyes. “What- no. Christen, I can’t put you out like that, it’s really not so bad-”

“No Tobin. You can’t stay here. Please, consider it a favor to me.” She grabbed both of Tobin’s hands, squeezing them, hoping that what she was saying would get through to her. “It won’t be putting me out at all. It’ll be nice to have the company, and I’m never going to be able to sleep again knowing that you’re living here.”

“Still, I don’t want to be all up in your business-”

“Tobin you’re already writing a piece about me. My business _is_ your business. And just think of it like this, you’ll get even more behind the scenes stuff if you’re staying in my house. So will you please pack your stuff so we can get the fuck out of this bug infested hell-hole?”

She looked at her carefully, as if she was trying to gauge how serious Christen's offer was. “I mean… if you’re sure. But if you get sick of me, just say the word and I’ll get a hotel, I’ll put it on my credit card and sort it out later-”

“Tobin.” She cut her off. “Please just pack your things.”

X

_This is totally fine. You just invited a woman who, for all intents and purposes, is a stranger, into your home. She could murder you and steal your dogs and no one would be any the wiser._

Christen gave her head a shake, refusing to give in to the mounting nerves about this situation.

_Tobin would never hurt you. And she's not a stranger, you moron. I mean, if you can bring her with you to the gynecologist, surely you can trust her in your house._

She stayed downstairs while Tobin unpacked, telling herself that it would be completely out of line to ask Tobin to wash all of her clothes to make sure that no six legged creatures made the journey with her from the house of horrors she had been staying in.

She sat on the couch, nibbling at her thumbnail as she got lost in her own thoughts.

"Pizza should be here any minute." She glanced up to find Tobin standing at the end of the couch.

"Oh! Great. I'm starving."

"You mean that cockroach didn't make you lose your appetite?" Tobin asked with a shudder.

Christen laughed. "I'm pushing the whole thing from my mind, thank you very much."

"I... seriously Christen. I know you told me I don't have to say it anymore, but I can't help it. Thank you. I really appreciate it, more than I can say."

Christen smiled back, cheeks a little warm at the earnestness in Tobin's eyes. "You're welcome." Something seemed to hang between them in the silence, something a little fragile and precious, but then the doorbell rang, and the dogs started barking like crazy, and she forced herself to let the moment go.

Christen was pleased by how easily the two of them slipped into each other's lives, Tobin exploring her neighborhood and helping with the dogs without being asked. It was still perfectly professional of course, but it was so nice to have someone to talk to throughout the day.

Well... it was perfectly professional until they decided to split a bottle of wine one night.

They had started playing a game of twenty questions at Christen's request, and it had led to them both giggling and talking about first dates.

Christen wiped at her eyes, pouring the last of the bottle into her glass. “Okay, fine, you win worst first date.”

“Ha!” Tobin gave a stupid little fist pump, grinning at Christen. “What do I win?”

“Well that depends, what do you want?” Christen bantered back.

Tobin stared at her for a moment, then pushed her hair back from her face with a chuckle. “Mmm. What do I want… world peace, I guess. Or a Pulitzer Prize for Explanatory Reporting.”

“Oh is that all? Piece of cake, I’ll get right on that,” Christen laughed.

Tobin turned to look at her. “What about you? What do you want?”

Something hot settled low in Christen's stomach. At that exact moment she wanted Tobin to pick her up, carry her upstairs, and take her using the strap on that had been collecting dust in her nightstand drawer. She choked slightly at how how quickly and vividly the thought rose to her mind. _Good grief Christen, no more wine for you._ She swiftly pushed the image aside, trying to think of literally anything else to say. “Hm… I want a grilled cheese, with a side of bacon, and maybe some rocky road ice cream.”

Tobin gave her a lazy grin, her head lolling back to rest on the back of the couch. “But seriously. If you could have anything in the world, no holds barred, what would you want, Chris?” The name fell from Tobin's lips with a familiarity that shouldn't exist. It made something shift within her, and suddenly she was being pulled back from her lusty haze by the sharp pain of heartache. She couldn't speak, couldn't even move for a second, trying to process the sudden whiplash of emotions. Tobin waited patiently, watching as she pulled herself together, searching for something to say before landing on the truth.

“I want my mom back,” she finally whispered. “She… She had a brain tumor. It was… hard and fast. And I… I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her in the time between her diagnosis and the end. I wanted to, but… my Dad and I, every time I was home, we would end up fighting, going round for round, screaming and yelling. And it would upset her, make her cry, so in the end it felt like maybe if it would be better if I wasn’t there.” She took a shaky breath, pushing back the painful memories. “She had an aneurysm. She was on life support, I made it to California to say goodbye and then… she was gone.”

Tobin reached over and took her hand. “I’m so, so sorry, Chris.”

She nodded quickly, sniffing back tears. “It’s been about a year. And it’s been rough. It really felt like she was the glue holding us all together sometimes. And now… Now she’s gone. And I feel untethered.”

“From your family?”

“From everyone. Sometimes it feels like I don’t know who I am. Even though she didn’t… she didn’t like what I did, by any means, she still made sure that I knew how fiercely she loved me. And now she’s not here, and it gets so lonely…”

“Do you talk to your dad at all? Your sisters?”

She shook her head, her chest aching at the thought of her father's disappointment. “My dad: no. Not really. He… He had a very clear vision for what my life was supposed to be: Stanford undergrad, one of the Ivy’s for law school, eventually taking over his law practice. It wasn’t being a porn star and a whore.” More tears swam to the surface as her mind filled with echoes of their last big fight, of the horrible things he had said, of how mad she had gotten. She wasn't sure they would ever be able to find their way back from this divide they were at.

“I don’t think you’re a whore,” Tobin murmured quietly.

“I mean, it’s all semantics. But he’s been very honest about how he feels about my life choices.”

“What about your sisters?”

She shrugged. “We still talk, but they don’t like it either. We don’t see each other as often as I would like.”

Tobin squeezed her hand. “That’s hard. I have two older sisters and a brother, I… you must miss them a lot.”

“I do.” Christen stared straight ahead. “And I don’t think… people don’t realize how lonely it can get.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean… I’m having sex on film sets, and with my clients, and I’m listening to my clients’ problems. It’s not an exaggeration, when people say an escort is a cross between a therapist and a prostitute. Everyone… everyone just wants someone to listen. To hold them. To care. That’s what they’re paying for. They just want someone to take care of them.”

“But who’s taking care of you?”

Christen smiled, trying not to let her know how many times she had asked herself the same thing. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” She sniffed, sitting up a little straighter. “We should probably head to bed. I’m gonna have a headache tomorrow from this wine.”

“Me too.” Tobin stood up and stretched. “Here, I’ll help you clean up.”

“If you’ll just put the bottle in the recycling, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Chris.” She stood up and turned to her, and before she knew what was happening Tobin's arms were around her, holding her. Her face pressed into Christen's hair, and she barely repressed a shiver. “I’m really sorry about your mom.”

Christen's chest throbbed. “Thank you.”

Tobin stepped back and the two of them stared somewhat nervously at each other. She picked up the empty bottle. “Well… goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tobs. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.” Tobin turned to put the wine bottle in the bin and Christen took the glasses to the sink. She hurried up the stairs to her room, shutting the door as the tears became harder to push down. She crawled into bed without washing her face or brushing her teeth, pulling a pillow to her chest and finally letting the tears fall. She cried for her mom, she cried for her dad, she cried for her sisters, and she cried for herself. But she also cried for Tobin, for someone that she would never get to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COme play with me on tumblr, @thetheatrelady


	3. Working All Day and Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companion to Think of Anything Chapter 9: Linguistics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? What's that? Sex Worker Wednesday is getting another installment?
> 
> Say less.
> 
> This is dedicated to K.

When Christen opened her email, she immediately noticed that she had an email from David. She clicked on it, her eyes quickly scanning his message.

_Annie,_

_Hello. I’m writing you from LaGuardia airport, where I’m waiting to board a flight back to Portland. I know the last time we talked I wasn’t due to return back until later in the month, but the project wrapped up sooner than anticipated._

_I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if you were free this Friday. If you already have plans I understand. It’s just been a while and I miss you._

_If Friday doesn’t work, please let me know when you have availability and I’ll check my schedule._

_All my love,_

_David_

She smiled. David was one of her oldest escorting clients. They’d first met when she was fairly new to it, still trying to piece together what exactly all of this meant, and what she wanted it to become. He had been in his early forties then, and reeling from a seemingly sudden and nasty divorce. His wife, the only woman he had ever loved, had filed without warning, citing unreconcilable differences. Before he could wrap his head around what was happening, he was being tossed out of the home that he had designed for them to grow old in, living in a cold, bare apartment. He only saw his teenaged children on the weekends. And then his ex wife announced that she was getting remarried.

He’d never been able to truly get over the divorce. Even though it had now been eight years, he still loved his ex wife. The thought of dating someone else, of spending his life with anyone but her was unimaginable. But he was still a man, after all, and a friend of a friend suggested he might turn to an escort service, and that led him to Christen.

She checked her schedule, then hit reply.

_David,_

_Hi! I’m so happy to hear that you’re back on the West Coast._

_You’re in luck, my Friday night is wide open. How does Roe at 6:00 pm sound? I’m been craving their shrimp haha._

_I hope you’ve been happy and healthy, I can’t wait to hear about your newly finished project._

_Love,_

_Annie_

He knew that Annie wasn’t her real name, but he didn’t mind. She thought it helped him reconcile what happened between them.

She received an affirmative reply within minutes, and added it to her schedule. She then immediately called one of her favorite hotels and made a reservation. One of the things that made David such a good client was how amenable he was. Some men had hard preferences regarding how she dressed or groomed, things she no problem accommodating, but could sometimes be difficult if dates were too close together.

She minimized the browser and took a sip of her coffee. Now she needed to tell Tobin.

She was still mulling over how to bring it up later that morning when Tobin took a deep breath.

“Hey, so I saw that the Pacific Northwest Ballet is doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Her voice was decidedly casual, but Christen could see that she was feeling anything but from the way her eyes were riveted to her laptop screen.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It was in the newspaper.”

Christen couldn’t help but giggle. “When is the last time anyone under the age of thirty five read a newspaper?”

Tobin rolled her eyes. “Okay, so not the newspaper newspaper, but like, online.” A faint blush began to make its way across her cheeks. “But I was thinking, well after seeing you in ballet class, you obviously miss it, or at least you seemed like you did-”

“Tobin,” she interrupted, putting her out of her misery.

“Would you want to go? I could see if they have any tickets available for Friday night?”

Tobin finally looked at her so she gave her a soft smile. “Do you even like ballet?”

She shrugged. “It’s nice. And if I see it with you then you can point out the things I’m not getting. Plus, it’s Shakespeare, I remember reading it in school.”

Christen figured this was as good of time as any. “Well as fun as that sounds, I have to work on Friday.”

“Oh?” Tobin’s forehead wrinkled.

Christen pulled her legs up so that she was sitting cross legged on the couch. “One of my clients has been in New York doing business. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another few weeks, but ended up coming home yesterday. So he reached out to me about setting up a date for this Friday.”

“Oh.” Tobin looked back down at her laptop.

Christen bit her lip, sensing that Tobin was disappointed. Or maybe… uncomfortable? She wasn’t sure. “But maybe we could go on Saturday? Or next weekend?”

“Sure, sure that sounds great. Or I mean, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” She shrugged, obviously intent on downplaying the whole thing.

“No, I’d definitely love to go. And it’ll give us a chance to get all dressed up,” Christen grinned.

Tobin groaned with a smile. “You mean ripped jeans aren’t going to cut it?”

She laughed. “Not quite.”

“Fine.”

She drummed her fingers on her knee. “So… will you tag along on Friday night?”

“What?”

“Not for the actual date, obviously. But you can definitely come with when I book the hotel room, watch me get everything set up. If you want, I can even talk to my client, ask if he would be willing to do an interview with you? With anonymity, of course.”

Christen watched as what seemed like a thousand emotions danced across Tobin’s face. “That would be really dope.”

X

The week seemed to pass in a flash, and before Christen knew it, it was Friday.

David had decided not to do the interview with Tobin, something Christen understood. Even with a promise of absolute anonymity, there was always the worry that someone would glean enough from the seemingly innocuous details to deduce your identity, and David was someone who valued his privacy.

Tobin came with her to the hotel, asking questions about the overall process before settling in to watch TV while Christen set about getting ready.

She couldn’t quite explain the flutter of butterflies in her tummy. Sure, it had been a while since she had seen David, but he didn’t make her nervous. By this point they were old friends. No, she was certain that it had far more to do with a certain photographer who she could hear laughing at the episode of Impractical Jokers that she had turned on.

When she was completely ready, she stepped into Tobin’s sightline, adjusting the strap of her dress. “Well, how do I look?”

Tobin glanced over and sat up straighter. “You look… amazing.” She fiddled with the strap of her camera. “Have you ever given one of your clients a heart attack?”

Christen let out a loud, wide mouthed laugh, feeling oddly relieved, and Tobin quickly brought her camera up to capture it.

“No. But I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

Tobin gave her a soft smile. “You should. You look incredible.”

“Thanks.” She steadfastly ignored the fact that Tobin’s compliments always hit her directly in the chest. “Well… time to head out, I guess.”

Tobin was quiet until they reached the parking lot. “Well, I’m gonna take a Lyft back to your place.”

She nodded. “Okay! Give the babies hugs and kisses for me.”

Tobin smiled. “Of course.” She hesitated for a brief moment, then pulled Christen into a hug. “Be careful, yeah? If you… need anything, I’m just a text away.”

“Thanks, Tobs.” Christen pulled back slightly to smile at her. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay. And… you text me when you’re headed home tonight.”

“Will do.”

“Okay.” They both stared at each other for a long moment. “You’re gonna be late,” Tobin finally whispered.

“Oh! Shit, yeah. Okay, text me.”

She quickly began to walk to her car, hearing Tobin’s laugh echo behind her.

When she reached Roe, David was already seated at the table. He stood up with a smile, giving her a hug. “Good evening. You look wonderful.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, as do you. I like this tie.” She patted him softly on the chest. He pulled out her chair for her, then settled across from her.

“I’m sorry that it was so last minute.”

She waved a hand. “No need to apologize! Life happens, plans change. I take it that business went well if you’re home early?”

He nodded. “Yes! We wrapped construction nearly a full two weeks ahead of schedule, the investors are going to be super pleased.”

Christen smiled and thanked the waiter as he came up and poured her a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. “And are you? Pleased with the end project, I mean.”

He gave her a bemused smile. “Ah, you know me. A head full of grandiose ideas, but not always the most fiscally responsible ones.”

“You design beautiful buildings.”

“I try anyway,” he responded humbly.

“You do,” she assured him, reaching out to take his hand.

“Listen to me, complaining about work when I’m out to dinner with a beautiful young woman,” he said, giving his head a shake as he squeezed her hand.

The waiter came up and they put in their food orders. Once he had stepped away, David gave her a sheepish look. “I’m… I’m sorry that I said no to your friend. The reporter.”

Christen smiled. “She’s a photojournalist. But don’t apologize! It’s absolutely fine.”

“I just-”

She held up her hand. “David. I get it.”

“When will the piece come out?”

She spread her napkin across her lap. “I’m not sure the exact timeline. But not for several months.” She took a sip of her wine. “How are Jason and Noelle?”

It was like a light switched on as he began to talk about his kids, detailing his son’s sophomore year of college, as well as Noelle’s college search.

“Stanford is a wonderful school,” she reminded him, and he laughed.

“Yes, yes, I’ll pass that on.”

Dinner passed easily, David more than happy to talk about his kids and his upcoming work projects. After they had turned down dessert and David paid the check, they made there way out of the restaurant and drove separately to the hotel.

Once he joined her in the room, she slipped out of her heels and helped him out of his suit jacket, hanging it up so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Once that was done, she turned to find him sitting not on the bed, but in the armchair in the corner.

She slowly approached him, running her hands along his shoulders before moving to loosen his tie. “Everything okay?”

He gave a breathy little laugh, leaning back. She began to unbutton his shirt, slipping onto her knees in front of him as she did.

Once his shirt was open, she beckoned him forward for a kiss. He relaxed into it for a moment, but then pulled back. “I’m, I’m sorry-”

“David.” She tilted his face to look at her. “You don’t have to apologize.” She stroked her fingers along his cheekbone. “What do you want?”

He exhaled sharply. “I just want to look at you, for now. Is that okay? Can I just…” He could barely meet her eyes. “Watch?”

She raised an eyebrow and bit her lap. “Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time.” This earned another laugh from him, and she stood up and turned around. “Sure, honey. Unzip me?” He did as requested and she let the dress drop to the carpet.

She slowly walked to the bed and climbed onto it, settling herself back against the pillows. She gently scratched her nails along her stomach. “Bra on or off?”

He swallowed. “Off.”

She unhooked it, and dropped it to the side. Her eyes fell closed as she let her hands gravitate upwards, cupping her breasts, kneading them. She took her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, pulling gently. The action pulled the very beginnings of a whine out of her throat.

She opened her eyes and looked over at the armchair. She snuck one finger underneath the lace of her underwear, snapping it against her skin. He nodded, answering her unasked question, and she quickly shimmied them down her legs, then spread them wide.

She gently dragged her fingers up and down her thighs, tickling the skin, warming herself up. After several minutes, she let one hand drop to stroke through her folds. She sighed, sliding lower on the bed, her eyes falling closed once more.

She lightly began to circle her clit, using barely there motions to tease herself, her breath stuttering a bit. She brought her free hand to her mouth, taking her index and middle finger into her mouth, wetting them before using the pads to circle and press at her now hard nipples.

 _Is that how it would feel if Tobin had your nipple in her mouth?_ She gasped, partially at the abruptness of the thought, partially at the way it made the growing ache between her legs intensify. She rubbed her clit a little harder, even as she tried to push her friend, her roommate for all intents and purposes, out of her mind.

But then she took the hand away from her nipple, instead sliding one long finger inside of herself, and her mind unhelpfully supplied a memory of Tobin, hot and sweaty from a particularly hard run, the hard plane of her abs visible as her tee shirt got stuck to the sweatshirt she was pulling off. She gave a low groan then bit her lip, slightly ashamed of her actions, not to mention embarrassed at how fast she had gotten this worked up.

She worked the finger in and out, adding another one as her brain kicked into overdrive, imagining that it wasn’t her hand but Tobin’s, that she was propping herself above her, pressing deep inside of her, pressing at her g spot. What would Tobin be like in bed? Would she tease, working Christen up to the brink again and again until she was begging to fall over the edge? Or would she be all business, fucking Christen until she could barely breathe, let along think.

Feeling her legs begin to shake, she rubbed a little harder at her clit, pants beginning to fall from her mouth as she hurtled towards her climax. It hit her like a truck, her back arching and her teeth digging into her bottom lip.

She slowly worked herself down, eventually letting her eyes fall open to stare up at the ceiling. In a few moments she would pull herself together and go about attending to her client, but for one moment she could think about only two things.

One, she could no longer deny how overwhelmingly she was attracted to Tobin. She was hot and sexy and mouth watering, and she ticked every single one of Christen’s boxes.

Two, she was so, incredibly fucked.


	4. Lean into me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!!! The much requested sequel to the last chapter, the equivalent of Think of Anything Chapter 10

Christen let herself quietly into her apartment, unsure of whether or not Tobin would still be awake, but she found her sitting on the couch, her face lit up by the bright light of her laptop.

"Hey." Her voice was a little raspy, and Christen quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to betray how it sent a small shiver down her spine.

"Hey yourself."

Tobin placed her laptop on the coffee table and turned to Christen, her face a little unsure. "Um... how was your night?"

Christen leaned on the back of the couch as she removed her heels. "It was good! David was still pretty tired from traveling, so we did a lot of talking." _And watching,_ her brain supplied, very unhelpfully.

"Nice."

"I'm gonna go shower. Get rid of the cooties.”

"Okay. I'm probably going to head to bed, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe." She started to gather up her laptop and charger. Christen worried her lip ith her teeth for a second before taking a half step forward, forcing herself to find her courage.

"I checked online and... if you still wanted to go, they have tickets for tomorrow. For the ballet, I mean."

Tobin looked surprised. "Oh! Did you want to go?"

"Yeah, yeah if you did. But, if you don't, if you'd rather just stay in that's fine, too." She found it ridiculous that she, someone who had made an entire career out of taking risks and pushing the envelope, out of getting what she wanted, was second guessing herself and getting mired down in nerves over asking out a cute girl. _But it’s not just a cute girl,_ she was quickly reminded. _It’s a journalist who’s here in a professional capacity, and you could very well be crossing a line._

"I'd love to go."

She couldn’t smother her relieved smile. "Great, then I'll buy the tickets."

By the next evening, the nerves hadn’t abated, but they had taken a back seat to her excitement at getting to see a ballet performance. You would think that as someone who makes their own schedule, she would have the time to take in things she loved like the arts, but she always seemed just a little too busy to make it.

The wind was swirling, seeking out any exposed skin as they crossed the parking lot, and Christen hugged her coat closer as she gave Tobin a crash course reminder on A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She was so busy enthusing about the wedding dance in the second act, in fact, that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking and caught her heel on the pavement, sending her suddenly tumbling towards the pavement, saved at the last minute by Tobin grabbing her arm. She helped her back upright.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head, a little embarrassed. "Yeah! Sorry, I guess I should pay more attention to where I'm walking,” she replied, trying to laugh it off.

Tobin took Christen's hand pulled it through her arm, so that she could hold onto her for balance. "It's no wonder you're tripping, those heels look dangerous," she joked, her face blushing a very pretty shade of pink.

Christen tucked herself further into Tobin's body, liking the way that their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, even when wearing said heels. "What can I say? I like the way they make my legs look."

"Your legs always look nice."

Christen resisted the urge to nervously laugh, instead licking at her lips. "Oh really?"

Tobin nodded slowly.

Warmth slowly began to unspool itself in her chest. "And is that your professional, photographer opinion, or your personal opinion?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"I mean, as a photographer, you look wonderful on camera. You're a dream to photograph."

Christen cocked an eyebrow. "So your personal opinion is that my legs aren't nice?"

Tobin let out a slow breath, not quite able to look at Christen as they neared the doors. "No... my personal opinion is that your legs are more than nice. They're incredible."

_There it was._

Deciding it was up to her to take the lead, Christen let the hand holding Tobin's bicep slide down her arm, intertwining their fingers. "Well that's good to know." She squeezed her hand. "For the record, I think your legs are pretty incredible as well."

A thousand flurries of emotion crossed Tobin’s face, though she tried to cover it up by opening and holding the door for Christen.

They picked up their tickets from will call and stopped at one of the concession stands to order glasses of wine, then proceeded to their seats. Christen leafed through her program, sinking into the excitement that permeates the house of a theatre before a live performance.

Tobin cleared her throat slightly. "So have you ever seen A Midsummer Night's Dream before?"

Christen shook her head. "Not in person. I've seen some clips online from when New York City Ballet did it, and I saw the stage performance while I was at Stanford."

She nodded. "I see. Well, I'm glad I picked a production you were interested in."

Christen could resist the urge to have a little fun with the other woman. She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Picked? I thought you just saw it advertised online?"

Tobin glanced up from her program, mouth open as she stuttered out nothing close to a reply. The lights chose that moment to dim, and she could have laughed out loud at the visible relief on Tobin’s face.

This just proved what Christen had been starting suspect, and if she was honest, hope: Tobin had feelings for her. This wasn’t a one off hang out, just one friend spotting something another friend might like and making plans. This was a date, even if neither of them had called it as much. 

She reached down and took Tobin’s hand, letting their fingers intertwine. She looked down at their joined hands in the dim light, then up at Christen. She could do nothing but smile, trying to tell her without words that it was okay, that she felt the same way. Tobin bit her lip and ran her thumb lightly over the back of her hand. Then the curtain lifted and they both turned to look at the stage.

The ballet proved to be exquisite. Christen felt like she could barely breathe as she watched the dancers make the story come to life. There were even a few points where she chocked up, moved to tears by the beauty happening on stage. She couldn’t help but gush about it as they drove home, recounting her favorite parts even though part of her knew that Tobin really had no idea what she was talking about.

As they neared home, she gave herself permission to ask a few personal questions, starting with ho Tobin got into photography and journalism. She loved the way her normally relaxed and languid personality became just little bit louder, a little bit bigger as she talked about the medium that she obviously loved. Christen wondered if she looked the same way when she was advocating for sex workers and their rights, like the passion was literally bubbling up inside of her, impossible to ignore.

Then talk turned to how Tobin was outed in high school by her best friend’s mom, and Christen couldn’t help but burn on her behalf. She knew that she was lucky, that she had been able to come out to her parents and sisters at her own pace, on her own timeline, and that a lot of people weren’t afforded that. She was glad however, that it seemed like her parents had been open and accepting. She knew all to well that this wasn’t always the case.

Sex work and the queer community were intrinsically linked. They always had been, as long as either had existed, and she knew that more than likely, it always would be. So many times, when kids were forced from their home for being gay, they had nowhere to go but the streets. Charities and organizations helped where they could, but often those kids ended up on the streets, with no way to support themselves except through sex work, and in dangerous situations too. She had tried throughout her years to help people see that this was not damning to the nature of either group, but rather even more reason that they should work together in the spirit on intersectionality.

“Your friend was obviously was really special to you. Do you know what she's up to now?"

Tobin let out a quiet laugh. "Um... yes, actually. She's living with my best friend, they've been dating for nearly six years."

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. "Excuse me?"

Tobin chuckled. "Yeah. Our senior year of college, Ali reached out to me while I was studying journalism at UNC. She said that she had fully came into her bisexuality and apologized for ever putting me in that situation. I assured her that there were no hard feelings and invited her to North Carolina for spring break. The plan was she was going to kick it on our couch but then she ended up spending most of the week in Ashlyn's bed."

Christen paused, trying gather her thoughts on that revelation. "Isn't that... weird, though? This person that you cared for so intensely, dating your best friend?"

"I get what you mean, but no. Ali and I would have never worked together, we're much better off as friends. We both just happened to be in a place where we were exploring, and I definitely don't regret that. But she and Ashlyn are honestly so happy together. I could never be upset over that."

"I feel like that's a very mature way to look at it," she smiled.

Tobin rolled her eyes with a grin. "I try my best."

Christen couldn’t help but wonder: "What does her mom have to say about all of this?"

"Y'know... she came a long way. Especially because Ali's older brother also came out while he was in college. So she was pretty much forced to get on board or give up both of her kids. So she's now behind them one hundred percent. So that's great. Still not the biggest fan of mine weirdly enough. Guess she still feels like I'm the one who turned Ali gay." She laughed. "I guess once you have a taste of this, it changes your life," she joked.

Christen suddenly found herself staring hard at the road, afraid that she would crash the car. She bit hard at the lip, trying not to think about how a taste of Tobin would change her _life._

"Anyways... yeah. that's why I decided to be a photojournalist." Neither one of them said anything for the last few minutes they were in the car, both seeming to be dealing with the loudness of their own minds. 

When they walked into the townhouse, Christen watched as Tobin immediately walked to the backdoor and let the dogs in, topping off their water dish at the kitchen sink. The way she did it, without even thinking, was so unspeakably domestic. Something in the action hit Christen hard in the chest, until she was afraid her ribs would crack.

She came back into the living room and gave Christen a slightly nervous smile. "Well... I'm gonna head to bed, I guess. But thanks for going to the ballet with me. I hope you enjoyed it." She walked up the stairs, leaving Christen to stare after her, silently screaming at herself to stop waiting, to just make a damn move already and put them both out of their misery. She quickly followed her up the stairs.

"Tobin.”

She turned around at the door to her room, one hand on the doorframe. "Yeah?"

Christen stared into her eyes for a moment, steeling herself to finally cross this divide they had both been dancing around, then leaned forward and crashed her lips to Tobin’s

She seemed to sigh into it, bringing up her hands after a few moments to thread through Christen’s hair, pulling her nearer, as if she would cease to breath if they broke the kiss. Christen was sure that her heart would beat out of her chest. After several moments however, she pulled back, watching as Tobin swallowed and took a deep breath.

"I more than enjoyed it, Tobs. I had a great time. I always do with you." She leaned in, smelling Tobin’s clean, woody scent , then whispered in her ear. "Maybe for our next date, we'll do something that you like." She pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Good night."

"Good night, Chris."

She forced herself to turn and walk to the door to her room, afraid that if she lingered for eve one moment, she would end up throwing herself at Tobin and rushing them both into something that she wasn’t sure they were ready for. She shut the door behind her then leaned back against it, closing her eyes with a sigh.

A good night, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @thetheatrelady


	5. In the Midst of it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Here is the companion chapter to ToA CHapter 11: Sleep With Me
> 
> For KC

She was woken up by her phone ringing on the bedside table. She fumbled out from under her blankets and pillows, squinting at the screen.

Channing.

For a moment she felt a surge of panic, the same one she’d had when Channing had called to tell her about their mom. She pushed the thought away, no one was dying, everything was fine. She hit answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” Her younger sister’s rang across the line. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Christen pulled the phone back to check the time, seeing that it was nearly eight. “Uh, yeah but it’s fine. I needed to get up and start the day anyway.” She yawned and pushed back the blankets. “What’s up?”

“Well, I have a favor to ask.”

“Spill.” Christen tip toed past Tobin’s door and down the stairs to let the dogs out.

“Ty has a conference in Vancouver starting tomorrow, and I thought I could tag along and we could stay with you. Y’know, make it a little girl’s weekend.”

Christen couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. “Wait really?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

She silenced a squeal. “Of course! Oh my gosh!” She went about starting the coffee. “When will you be getting in?”

“Ty’s handling the flights, I’ll have to check.”

“This is so exciting, Chan. I can’t wait for you guys to see my house! And the dogs of course will be ecstatic. But we can also do all of the dumb touristy things that I never got around to doing when I moved here.”

“I’ve already gone online to book us tickets to visit the Pittock Mansion. And I know it’s probably still pretty cold there but I was also looking at the International Rose Test Garden.”

Christen heard a creak on the stairs and turned to see Tobin giving her a sheepish look. She grinned at her, pointing wordlessly at the full coffee pot.

“Yeah, no that sounds amazing. It’s been way too long.”

“I know. I mean, we’d kind of hoped you would come down for the holidays…”

“I know.” Christen tapped her fingernails on the tabletop.

“Are you sure you won’t be busy with work-”

“No, I won’t be too busy! I mean, I don’t have my schedule in front of me, but even if I do have something, I’ll reschedule.”

“Because we could get a hotel room-”

“No, don’t even mention it!”

“The I guess we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, call me when your plane lands.”

“Will do. Love you, Chris.”

“Love you too, see you tomorrow!” Christen hung up the phone and gave another short squeal before leaning down and pecking Tobin on the cheek. “Hi. Sorry about that.”

“No worries, what’s going on?”

“My sisters are coming up to visit!” Christen gushed, her heart high in her chest. “My older sister, Tyler, she has some work thing in Vancouver, so she and Channing are going to come and stay with me! They get in tomorrow.”

“That’s awesome!” Her sheepish look was back. “Um, I can get a hotel room for while they’re here, that way you have both of your guest rooms.”

Christen shook her head. “What? No way. I’ll sleep on the couch and one of them can take my bed.”

Tobin rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Christen, you’re not sleeping on the couch in your own house. What if I stay on the couch?”

“Nope,” Christen replied. “Not gonna happen. I’ll stay on the couch. Oh my god, I can’t wait to see them!”

“How long has it been?”

Christen stopped to think. “I guess… six months? I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.” She felt ashamed to admit as much to Tobin.

“Why not?”

She sighed before giving a half-hearted grin. “I’m not a huge fan of Thanksgiving. Just… the whole thing rubs me wrong. Having a day where we eat this huge meal and talk about how grateful we are for everything in our lives, then the next day people are killing each other over half priced cashmere sweaters? It’s gross. Plus the whole Thanksgiving story is so whitewashed. Like, ‘Oh! The Indians shared their food with the pilgrims and saved them from starvation.’ Okay, but what about the murder and genocide that followed?”

Tobin smirked. “Exactly what your cousins want to hear about over the pumpkin pie.”

“Exactly,” Christen laughed. “So I haven’t gone home for Thanksgiving in years. Probably since I was in college.”

“What about Christmas?”

She pushed down reflexive pain in her chest. “It’s… it’s not the same with my mom gone. And I know that’s not a good reason, that if anything I should take whatever time I can get with my family while I can. Because we’ve all learned the hard way that our time here on earth is shorter than we think.” She chewed on her lip for a moment, leaning down to scratch Morena’s head. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to go down. So I said I was too busy with work.”

“But you’re going to see them tomorrow,” Tobin reminded her.

“Yeah! It’s been a while since the three of us had time to really hang out.” The more she admitted to Tobin, the more guilt began to crawl up her spine.

Tobin leaned over and squeezed her arm. “I think that’s just a part of growing up and becoming adults, unfortunately. I love my siblings but it’s so hard to align everyone’s schedules and plan a trip somewhere.”

“I guess…” She didn’t know how to explain to Tobin that this situation had more to do with stubbornness than anything else. “Anyway,” she said, giving her head a shake. “I need to get the house ready for them! So today we’re going to clean the house from top to bottom.”

Tobin laughed. “’We?!’ How did I get roped into this?”

Christen stood from her chair and bent so that her lips were at Tobin’s ear. “I bet I can make it worth your while.” Tobin shivered, and it made Christen giggle. She had meant that she would order them pizza for dinner, but if Tobin wanted to claim a different prize, then who was she to stop her? She straightened up and sashayed out of the kitchen, but not before calling, “Strip your bed so I can wash your sheets!” over her shoulder.

X

When she had introduced Tobin as merely a friend, something had sunk in her stomach. _It’s not a lie,_ she told herself. After all, Tobin was a friend, and she was staying with her. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste in her mouth.

She pointed up the stairs. “Okay, Tyler I figured you would stay in my room, Channing you can have the other guest room, and I’ll sleep down here.”

Her older sister shook her head. “Chris I’m not kicking you out of your own bed!”

“It’s really fine-”

“Why don’t I just share a bed with Chan, and you can keep your bed?” she offered.

Christen gave a slight laugh. “Well, my bed is a queen, so if anyone’s going to share a bed, you and I can share that one.”

“No, really, it’s okay,” Tyler insisted. “I’ll sleep with Channing.”

Now she was simply confused. “Just sleep with me-”

“I don’t want to sleep in your bed,” Tyler finally admitted, her voice a little too loud for how close they were all standing.

“Oh.” She didn’t understand what the problem was.

Tyler’s face was strangely pinched. “It’s just… I don’t have a problem sharing a bed with you or Chan, but I don’t want to sleep in your bed. I’m sorry, but I just don’t.”

“But, why…” Realization came crashing upon her, quickly followed by rolling waves of shame and embarrassment. “Tyler. No one sleeps in my bed except for me. It’s not… This is my home.” She felt mortified that she even needed to say as much.

“I was kind of under the impression that you work from home.”

“Not like that,” Christen muttered, keeping her eyes on the ground so Tyler wouldn’t see the tears threatening to overwhelm her. “I don’t… fine. Whatever. We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements later.”

“Chris, don’t get mad, surely you can understand-“

“I’m gonna let the dogs in,” Christen interrupted. She couldn’t keep talking about this, not ever but especially not in front of Tobin. “They’re going to be so happy to see you guys,” she redirected.

When she came back with Morena and Khaleesi, Tobin caught her by the elbow.

“Hey, I think I’m going to go out to a coffee shop and get some work done.”

“What? No, stay.” This was just great, one half squabble and Tobin was already running for the hills.

Tobin waved her hand. “You guys need time to hang out, I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She gave her a grin. “But I’ll be home in time for dinner?”

Christen smiled back. “Okay. But you can seriously stay if you want.”

“Nah. Have fun with your sisters. I’ll be back around six.” She nodded and watched Tobin go, not turning back to her sisters until the door shut behind her.

Channing was practically vibrating with unanswered questions. “Tell us everything.”

Christen laughed. “What do you mean?”

“She means are you dating?”

She tried to deflect with a laugh. “Ty, I-”

“Oh come on! She’s obviously gay, not to mention hot as hell-”

“Oh, because you would know all about both of those things,” Christen challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Tyler refused to be cowed. “-and living with you.”

“No, she’s just staying with me while she’s in town for work.”

“Mm hm. And is she paying you rent?”

“I…” Christen paused for just a second too long.

“See? Knew it,” Tyler declared triumphantly.

Channing began to bump her hip into Christen’s, all while singing, “Christen’s got a giiiiirlfriend!”

“Will you two stop it?” she laughed. “I do not, she’s just a friend.”

Tyler and Channing shared a look. “Yeah, Sure. Whatever you say, Chris,” her little sister finally replied sarcastically.

“Oh my god. Will you two knock it off and help me start dinner?”

X

Everything was going great. Christen had moved past Tyler’s earlier jibes and it felt like old times, the three of them laughing and dancing around the kitchen, telling old stories. When Tobin rejoined them, she had given her sisters pleading looks, trying to silently ask them to go easy on her, but they steadfastly ignored her.

She should have known when talk turned to Tobin’s job that they were in danger territory, but she was too caught up in the giddiness of being reunited with her sisters.

“She’s amazing,” she told them earnestly. “She recently did an expose on teen girls in the New York State prison system, the photos she’s shown me are incredible. It feels like you’re right there.”

“Is that what you’re working on right now?” Tyler asked.

And just like that, the uneasiness returned. She kept her head down, focusing on the food on her plate.

“Um… no. I’ve moved on to my next project.”

“What is it?”

“It’s… it’s um…” She could feel Tobin’s uncertainty building and knew that she had to speak up.

“It’s me. She’s doing a project on my work and my activism,” she said carefully.

The table was suddenly very quiet.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand,” Tyler finally said.

“I… I met a girl on my last project who was busted for solicitation. It led to me researching more about sex work, and sex worker rights activists, and that’s how I got in touch with Christen,” Tobin explained. “She was gracious enough to agree to let me come out and document her life.”

“Her life?” Channing asked.

“You know… as a sex worker.”

Tyler turned to look at Christen. “Are you serious?”

She carefully finished chewing the food in her mouth before responding, her heart thudding in her throat.. “She’s been documenting the day to day aspects of my life. I think it will be really powerful because it shows just how normal my life is, how I’m a person just like everyone else.”

“But you’re not!” Tyler’s voice was loud. “Have you lost your fucking mind? You’re doing a documentary about your life as a porn star and an escort?” There it was, there was the anger, the judgement, the side of their father that was so quick to make an appearance.

“It’s not a documentary, it’s going to be a magazine feature-”

“Oh, because that’s the thing I actually had a problem with, Chris,” Tyler spat. She crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re going to lose what little bit of anonymity you have! Everyone is going to know your real name. You’re never going to be able to apply for a real job-”

“I have a real job!” Christen cut in, hurt blooming hard and hot in her stomach. “Just because I’m not going into an office everyday doesn’t mean that I don’t have a job, I work hard.”

“Oh yeah, it must be really hard work, laying on your back all day,” Tyler quipped back. “What if you get married and have kids someday, Chris? Are you going to be comfortable dropping them off at preschool, knowing that the other parents know about your dirty little secret?”

She tried to force her voice to keep steady. “It’s not dirty-“

“Well it’s not exactly the most respectable profession, is it?”

Channing tried a different approach. “Chris, I don’t think you’re really thinking about this. What about Dad? Once your real name is out there, it’s just a matter of a little googling before someone can figure out exactly who you’re the daughter of.” If Tyler was their dad, then Channing was all their mom, leaning on emotions instead of logic, always taking the softer approach.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m tired of hiding?” Christen asked, trying to make them both see where she was coming from.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have dropped out of college to be a fucking stripper, Chris!” Tyler pushed her chair back from the table and began to pace around the kitchen. “I mean, you act like we’re the crazy ones, for having reservations about you _literally_ whoring yourself out. And don’t give me that bullshit about your body, your choice, blah blah. You’re letting men use you for sex, all in the name of what? Sticking it to the patriarchy? Sticking it to Dad? I think he got the fucking message!”

Christen jumped to her feet, now well past caring that Tobin was there, that she was witnessing every moment of this. “This has nothing to do with Dad!”

Tyler scoffed. “Of course it does. You wanted so badly to rebel against all of the plans Dad had for his picture-perfect little Christen that you picked the career path that would hurt him the most.”

She blinked back her tears, not wanting to give Tyler the satisfaction of making her cry. “I picked the career path that would make me happy-”

“Really? Are you really happy, Chris? Take a look around. You’ve alienated yourself from our entire family. You rarely talk to Dad. You missed the last few months of Mom’s life-”

“Tyler-” Channing tried to cut in, but their older sister pushed forward.

“No, I’m tired of tiptoeing around it.” She pointed at Christen. “You did, Chris. You missed out on spending time with her and you’ll never get that time back. You live here, in this house that you’re so proud of owning, but you’re alone. Vero left because let’s face it, most people don’t want a significant other who fucks other people for money. You have ruined your life, all in the name of… what? Feminism? Because I still manage to be a feminist while keeping my clothes on and my legs closed.”

“Stop it,” Christen said, her voice cracking.

“I’m… fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore, Christen. This is going too far. This is going to truly destroy any chance you have of getting out, and you’re going to take down our family while you’re at it. Do you really hate us that much?”

 _God, of course Tyler would only see herself in all of this._ “This has nothing to do with you-”

“Yes it does!” Tyler yelled. “Can’t you see that everything you do affects us? You don’t live in a vacuum, Christen! This is stupid and selfish, and you know it. That’s why you didn’t tell us you were doing it.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you were going to freak out,” she argued.

“Yeah, and rightfully so. What, did you think that if you told us in front of Tobin that we would just keep our mouths shut and nod prettily? Well, my politeness can only extend so far. I love you, but this is crossing the line. It’s not… it’s not fair that you’re doing this to us. You can say all you want about how it’s your life, your body, but it’s our family, our name. You… God. I can’t believe you.” She turned to Tobin. “It was very nice to meet you, and I’m sure you really are great at what you do, but I won’t be made a part of this. If I am anywhere in this magazine piece you’re writing, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer, because I’m not giving any sort of consent for this.”

Christen wanted so badly to put it all back, to solve this somehow. “Tyler, please-”

“Christen, I’m getting married. Can you even imagine… how embarrassing it is to know that while you’re standing beside me at the church that there are probably going to be men in the crowd that know exactly what you look like while you’re getting fucked?”

“Well then maybe I shouldn’t come,” she snapped without thinking.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” The two stared at each other, both realizing what had just been said.

“You… you don’t want me to be your bridesmaid?”

“I don’t know. I need to think about it. This is all… God, Chris. I love you so much. We all do. This wouldn’t upset us so much if we didn’t care about you.”

Christen shook her head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“That you’re going to stop. That you’re going to get out and live a normal life. That you know that you are worth more than this, that you can do better than this.”

“It’s not… I can’t say that, because this is what I do, and as crazy as it might seem to you, I enjoy it. I’m good at it.”

“You’re good at a lot of things.”

“It’s not the same.”

Tyler took a deep breath, wiping at the stray tears on her cheeks. “I think… I should go.”

“What? No,” Christened pleaded.

“Yes. I… I thought it would maybe be different, if it was the three of us, or maybe since we were coming to you, but… I just don’t know how to do this. I _can’t_ do this.”

Christen sniffed back her tears. “Tyler. You’re my big sister.”

“I know. But you’re not listening to what I’m saying.”

“You’re not listening to me-”

“Chris.” Tyler turned to Channing who had been sitting miserably next to Tobin, watching the two of them fight. “I’m getting a hotel. Are you going to stay here?”

“Tyler, I think we all need to take a second-”

“No, Channing. I’m not staying here. Are you going to spend the night here or come with me to the hotel?”

Christen tried one last time. “You don’t have to get a hotel, you can stay with me-”

“No, I can’t.” Tyler replied flatly, then turned and started up the stairs.

Channing slowly stood up. “Chris, she’s just upset-”

“And I’m not?” Christen spat.

She sighed. “I’m… I’m gonna go with her. Just so she’s not alone. But let’s get lunch or dinner tomorrow, once you’ve both calmed down, we can talk about this.”

“She just uninvited me from her wedding, Channing.”

Her younger sister faltered, unsure of what to say. “Everyone just needs to calm down.” She followed Tyler up the stairs to retrieve her suitcase.

Tobin, who hadn’t moved from her seat at the table, finally came to her feet. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Christen shook her head. “I don’t know why I thought this would go any differently.” Tobin started to reply but cut off when Tyler and Channing came back downstairs. Christen wiped under her eyes. “Where do you want me to drive you?”

“I can get a car.”

“No. Tyler, please, let me take you.”

“I already called it.”

“Oh.” No one said anything, instead just standing in tense silence for several minutes.

Tyler’s phone vibrated. “The car’s here.” She went to the front door as Channing gave Christen a hug but turned around at the last second. She wrapped her arms around Christen, pressing her face into her hair. Christen returned the hug, holding her tightly. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too.”

Tyler pulled away with a sniff, then left, Channing following behind her.

She shut the door, locking it, then stared at it as she lost the battle with her tears, doing her best to breathe through the sobs.

She heard Tobin behind her. “Chris?”

She turned around, tears streaming down her face, and threw herself into Tobin’s arms. She didn’t know how she expected this to go, ho she thought they would take it, but never in her wildest dreams did she think it would go this far, that Tyler would rather cut her out of her life than be associated with a sex worker. She pressed her face into Tobin’s shoulder and let herself cry with abandon, crying for her relationship with her sisters, for the lost time with her mom, and for the idea that maybe she really had lost everything.

**Author's Note:**

> What are some of the chapters you would like to see me do?


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